LI  B  RARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

Of    ILLINOIS 

9772 
v.7 

cop.  4 


ia.  ri(ST,  survey 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


http://archive.org/details/earlyindianapoli75hodg 


INDIANA    HISTORICAL    SOCIETY    PUBLICATIONS 
Vol.  7.  No.  5. 


Early  Indianapolis 


By 

MRS.  LAURA  FLETCHER  HODGES. 


INDIANAPOLIS 
C.   E.   PAULEY   &   COMPANY 


FOREWORD 


On  November  15,  1918,  the  Indianapolis  Women's  Club  de- 
voted its  program  to  Indianapolis,  the  exercises  being  grouped 
under  the  title:  "The  Indianapolis  Symphony."  In  this  har- 
monious enterprise,  the  first  paper,  entitled  "Allegro/'  was  the 
one  following,  which  is  now  rechristened,  "Early  Indianapolis." 
The  appropriateness  of  both  titles,  in  their  diverse  connections, 
will  be  apparent  to  the  reader. 

Through  quotations  from  the  diary  of  her  grandmother, 
Mrs.  Calvin  Fletcher,  Mrs.  Hodges  presents  a  peculiarly  inti- 
mate view  of  early  life  in  Indianapolis,  which  occasioned  an 
appeal  for  her  consent  to  its  publication  in  this  form. 

J.  P.  Dunn,  Secy. 


Early  Indianapolis 


A  verse  from  Riley's  "Tale  of  the  Airly  Days"  has  pervaded 
my  mind  since  this  topic  was  assigned  me,  and,  with  an  in- 
sistence which  would  not  be  denied  has  suggested  the  man- 
ner in  which  I  should  treat  the  opening  number  of  the  Indi- 
anapolis Symphony. 

My  Allegro  is  not  necessarily  a  sprightly  movement,  with 
gay  and  merry  touches,  although  these  qualities  are  not  lack- 
ing; but  it  is  rather  the  beginning  of  the  composition  as  well 
as  a  harmony  of  mingled  sounds,  a  concert  of  voices — the 
voices  of  the  past. 

And  so  my  heart  warms  towards  Riley  and  his  verse  when 
he  begs  for  "plane  facts,  plane  words  of  the  good  old  fash- 
ioned ways — 

Don't  tech  'em  up  like  the  poets  does 

Tel  theyr  all  too  fine  for  use. 

Tell  me  a  tale  of  the  timber  lands 

Of  the  old  time  pioneers.  *  *  * 

Tell  of  the  old  log  house — about 

The  loft  and  the  puncheon  flore — 

The  old  fi-er-place,  with  the  crane  swung  out, 

And  the  latch  string  through  the  door." 

In  thinking  of  the  earliest  days  one  pictures  the  legislature 
and  Jonathan  Jennings,  first  governor  of  Indiana,  consulting 
with  the  Commissioners  appointed  "to  locate  and  lay  out  a 
permanent  capital  for  the  State."  It  is  a  matter  of  history-  that 
they  decided  on  the  site  at  the  point  where  Fall  Creek  flows 


into  White  River,  June  7,  1820.  Indianapolis  consequently 
has  served  as  the  capital  of  the  commonwealth  nearly  one 
hundred  years. 

Corydon,  the  pleasant  village  of  story  and  pageant,  had  that 
distinction  for  a  brief  time  immediately  after  the  state  was  ad- 
mitted into  the  Union,  affixing  by  her  admission,  the  nineteenth 
star  to  the  flag. 

Reviewing  history  we  find  there  were  many  and  far  dis- 
tant capitals.  When  France  through  her  explorers  possessed 
a  vast  domain  of  which  this  territory  was  a  part,  Paris  was 
the  capital.  By  the  treaty  of  Paris,  at  the  close  of  the  Seven 
Years  War,  it  shifted  to  London.  Richmond,  Virginia  fol- 
lowed, after  the  Revolution,  when  Clark  took  possession  of 
the  country  west  of  the  Ohio  river.  The  capital  was  nearer 
when  Virginia's  rule  ceased  in  1790  on  the  formation  of  the 
Northwest  Territory,  for  Marietta,  Ohio,  was  made  the  seat 
of  government.  Ten  years  later  Vincennes  had  this  dis- 
tinction when  Indiana  Territory  was  established.  Vincennes 
forms,  therefore,  the  last  link  in  the  chain  of  capitals  joining 
Paris  in  France,  many  leagues  away,  to  Indiana  Territory 
through  the  frontier  French  town  on  the  Wabash. 

Through  these  centuries  of  changing  government  Indiana 
can  claim  a  past  as  interesting  as  it  is  remote,  reaching  as  it 
does  to  the  days  when  Louis  the  Great,  fourteenth  of  that 
name,  sat  on  the  throne  of  France. 

But  kings  and  thrones  have  little  to  do  with  the  "Capital 
in  the  Wilderness,"  our  present  concern,  except  perhaps  to 
serve  as  a  background,  a  dim  and  faded  tapestry  hung  on  the 
walls  of  memory  bringing  out  by  contrast  the  virility,  the 
sturdiness,  and  the  self  dependence  of  the  pioneers. 

Mention  has  been  made  of  the  Commissioners  earlier  in 
this  paper — let  us  join  them  as  they  sit  about  the  cherry  table 
(still  in  existence)    in  John  McCormick's  cabin  considering 


the  business  the  Governor  has  entrusted  to  them;  weighing 
the  merits  of  the  three  sites  proposed  for  the  capital ;  the 
Bluffs,  twenty  miles  to  the  south  known  as  Whetzell's  Settle- 
ment, the  home  of  the  Indian  fighter  and  trace  maker;  Con- 
ner's Prairie  to  the  north,  a  trading  post  surrounded  by  In- 
dian huts,  and  the  Fall  Creek  Settlement  where  McCormick's 
cabin  stood. 

The  determining  factors  in  the  choice  were  the  river,  pre- 
sumably navigable,  its  banks  at  this  point  making  a  good  boat 
landing,  the  level  surface  of  the  adjacent  land  and  last  but 
by  no  means  least,  the  central  location  of  the  Fall  Creek 
Settlement. 

After  the  Commissioners  had  made  a  favorable  report  to  the 
Legislature,  Congress  granted  the  request  for  land  by  a  do- 
nation of  four  sections  for  "the  Capital  in  the  Wilderness/' 
as  Judge  Daniel  Waite  Hbwe  so  aptly  calls  it. 

The  donation  was  sixty  miles  from  the  nearest  settlement 
and  within  a  few  miles  of  the  boundary  which  divided  the 
"New  Purchase"  from  the  land  still  claimed  by  the  Indians. 

Speaking  of  conditions  which  existed  then  a  writer  says, 
"There  was  no  town,  no  people  except  in  the  lonely  cabins 
miles  apart ;  not  a  road  leading  anywhere,  no  farm  lands  un- 
der cultivation,  no  supplies  except  those  bought  by  pack 
horses  on  the   trails   made   originally  by   the   Indians." 

Under  such  circumstances  a  visit  from  the  neighbor  in 
the  remote  clearing  or  the  arrival  of  the  traveller  with  news 
of  the  world  was  remembered  with  delight.  The  itinerant 
preacher  of  any  denomination  was  always  a  welcome  guest ; 
he  played  no  small  part  in  the  development  of  Indiana  from 
the  crude  material  of  a  hundred  years  ago.  He  did  not  hold 
himself  aloof  from  the  social  and  economic  duties  of  the 
period,  but  helped  in  log  rollings,  house  raisings  and  corn 
huskings  while  he  kept  up  his  preaching. 


Some  of  these  men  were  unlearned,  some  even  illiterate, 
but  their  congregations  were  not  scholarly  and  no  one  now 
can  question  the  wisdom  of  utilizing  even  such  as  they  in 
the  moral  and  religious  work  of  the  times.  Should  the  field 
have  been  left  uncultivated  until  enough  college-bred  preach- 
ers could  be  sent  to  look  after  it? 

Our  forefathers  were  absorbed  in  making  and  protecting 
their  rude  homes  and  gathering  their  meager  crops — in  clear- 
ing their  recently  purchased  acres — they  therefore  had  little 
time  for  intellectual  pursuits. 

In  his  defense  of  dialect  Riley  says  with  truth,  "Many  of 
the  heroic  ancestry  of  our  best  people  grew  unquestionably 
dialect  of  caste — not  alone  in  speech  but  in  every  mental  trait 
and  personal  address.  It  is  a  grievous  fact  for  us  to  confront 
but  many  of  them  wore  apparel  of  the  commonest,  talked 
loudly  and  doubtless  said  'this  away  and  that  away,  What  y' 
doin'  of  and  whur  you  goin'  at'  I" 

But  let  us  return  to  the  settlement  for  which  we  have 
attempted  by  this  digression  to  create  atmosphere. 

The  Legislature  included  in  the  act  ratifying  the  selection 
of  the  site  provision  for  the  election  of  three  commissioners 
to  lay  out  the  capital  and  an  agent  to  have  charge  of  the 
sale  of  lots. 

Judge  Jeremiah  Sullivan  states  that  on  his  motion,  sec- 
onded by  Mr.  Samuel  Merrill,  the  town  was  named  Indian- 
apolis, a  name  which  created  some  amusement  when  first  pro- 
posed. 

Of  the  commissioners  elected,  Christopher  Harrison  was 
the  only  one  to  appear  at  the  place  on  the  date  fixed  upon. 
Without  delay  he  carried  on  alone  the  survey  and  the  sale  of 
lots,  a  proceeding  very  properly  legalized  by  an  act  of  the 
Legislature  in  November,  1821.  Judge  Harrison  was  one 
of  the  most  interesting  characters  who  ever  reached  Indiana. 


He  came  from  Maryland,  was  possessed  of  some  wealth,  had 
a  fine  education  and  a  taste  for  art.  He  had  loved  Elizabeth 
Patterson,  who  married  Jerome  Bonaparte ;  failing  to  win  her 
he  came  to  Indiana  where  he  lived  a  hermit  on  the  bluffs  of 
the  Ohio  river  near  Hanover.  Seeking  political  honors  he 
ran  for  governor  against  Jennings,  but  was  badly  defeated ; 
notwithstanding  this  defeat  he  was  held  in  high  esteem  by 
the  successful  candidate,  as  well  as  by  the  Legislature. 

Harrison  selected  Alexander  Ralston  and  Elias  Pym  Ford- 
ham  as  surveyors  of  the  new  capital,  and  Benjamin  I.  Blythe 
as  clerk  to  the  commissioners.  Ralston  was  a  Scotchman,  a 
man  of  ability  who  had  been  entrusted  by  Lord  Roslin  with 
important  engineering  work  before  coming  to  this  country. 
He  had  assisted  Major  L'Enfant,  companion  of  La  Fayette^, 
in  surveying  Washington,  the  national  capital.  It  is  a  well 
known  fact  that  the  design  employed  by  L'Enfant  influenced 
Ralston  in  his  survey  of  Indianapolis,  the  scheme  involving 
as  it  does  a  circle  in  the  center  with  radiating  avenues  and 
streets  intersecting  at  right  angles.  Completing  the  survey 
Ralston  left  the  settlement  but  returned  in  1822  for  per- 
manent residence.  He  built  a  little  brick  house  on  West 
Maryland  street  near  Capitol  avenue,  remarkable  at  the  time 
for  the  great  number  of  windows  and  doors  it  contained ;  here 
he  lived  until  his  death  in  1827 ;  he  was  buried  at  Green 
Lawn  Cemetery.  It  was  said  that  he  was  involved  in  Aaron 
Burr's  conspiracy,  but  it  is  probable  that  he  was  only  em- 
ployed to  survey  the  lands  Burr  had  purchased.  Whatever 
the  association  Ralston  was  held  in  high  esteem  by  his  fel- 
low townsmen ;  the  children  loved  him  and  the  birds  came 
to  his  door  to  be  fed. 

Various  memorials  to  his  memory  have  been  suggested,  but 
as  yet  nothing  has  been  done  by  this  community. 

There  were  a  few,  however,  who  did  not  forget  him  and 


his  services  to  the  city.  Ralston's  body  had  rested  in  Green 
Lawn  Cemetery  half  a  century  when  it  was  carried  to  Crown 
Hill  escorted  by  half  a  dozen  old  citizens  and  laid  in  the 
teachers'  lot  by  the  side  of  John  B.  Dillon,  Indiana's  dis- 
tinguished historian. 

Fordham,  the  second  surveyor,  well  educated  and  of  a  dis- 
cerning mind,  was  a  member  of  an  ancient  family  in  the  east 
of  England.  He  joined  the  celebrated  Illinois  colony  at  English 
Prairie,  in  1817.  He  was  a  pupil  of  George  Stephenson,  in- 
ventor of  the  locomotive  steam  engine. 

Had  I  been  more  familiar  with  the  history  of  my  native 
city  I  would  have  looked  with  greater  interest,  when  I  visited 
Newcastle-on-Tyne,  on  Stephenson's  engine,  the  Rocket, 
standing  silent  among  its  noisy  successors  in  the  railway  sta- 
tion. 

The  association  of  the  men  concerned  with  the  beginning 
of  Indianapolis,  with  those  of  the  far  away  world  will  bear 
repeating — Harrison  with  the  beautiful  Miss  Patterson  and 
Jerome  Bonaparte ;  Ralston  with  Lord  Roslin,  Aaron  Burr, 
L'Enfant,  La  Fayette,  and  Fordham  with  George  Stephenson. 

The  survey  completed,  with  certain  reservations  for  public 
purposes,  a  state  house,  a  state  university,  a  court  house,  etc., 
the  town  lots  heavily  timbered,  staked  off  at  streets  running 
through  the  woods,  were  offered  for  sale. 

Now  we  witness  the  beginning  of  the  town,  the  news  having 
gone  abroad  that  the  capital  was  located  immigrants  began  to 
arrive  from  Ohio,  Kentucky,  the  Carolinas,  from  Pennsylvania, 
New  England  and  Virginia.  To  follow  "the  course  of  em- 
pire" was  a  difficult  and  dangerous  undertaking,  since  the 
roads  were  hardly  more  than  trails  worn  by  man  and  beast,  and 
Indians  lurked  in  the  forest  resentful  of  the  change  taking 
place  in  their  old  hunting  ground.     White  river,  an  uncertain 


mode  of  travel,  furnished  the  only  other  means  of  approach 
to  the  new  capital. 

The  sale  of  lots  began  in  October,  1821 ;  the  purchasers  in 
most  cases  selecting  those  along  the  river  and  on  Washington 
street,  for  many  years  known  as  Main  street.  Isaac  Wilson 
built  the  first  frame  house  of  the  new  town  on  what  is  now 
State  House  Square. 

We  have  come  to  that  stage  of  the  town's  development  where 
I  find  myself  turning  to  the  diary  of  one  of  its  pioneer  mothers 
for  some  unembellished  pictures  of  the  early  days.  She  was 
a  participant  in  as  well  as  a  witness  of  the  simple  life  of  the 
town,  a  life  at  times  "so  uneventful  that  the  utter  absence 
of  anything  in  it  to  remark  upon  became  in  itself  remarkable." 

The  diary  begins  "October  the  first,  1821.  We  arrived  at 
Indianapolis  and  procured  a  house  or  rough  cabin,  sixteen 
feet  square,  into  which  I  entered  with  alacrity  after  enduring 
the  fatigues  of  our  journey  from  Ohio  which  lasted  thirteen 
days.  October  the  eighth.  The  sale  of  lots  commenced  near 
our  house;  a  great  concourse  of  people  were  present.  Fri- 
day, November  10.  I  was  spinning  at  Mrs.  Nowlands.  Sat- 
urday, I  was  baking  pumpkin  pies.  Sunday  I  attended  prayer 
meeting  at  Mr.  Stephen's.  Monday,  November  19;  this  day 
I  was  shopping.  I  only  bought  a  pound  of  cotton  from  which 
I  spun  some  candlewick.  Mrs.  Nowland  (a  near  neighbor) 
was  making  a  bonnet;  she  came  to  me  to  know  whether  I 
would  make  it.  I  did  not  undertake  it  I  but  I  gave  her  all 
the  instruction  I  could."  Mrs.  Nowland  hardly  needs  an 
introduction  to  those  familiar  with  the  early  settlers.  Her 
husband,  Matthias,  travelled  up  White  river  with  the  Commis- 
sioners on  their  tour  of  inspection,  and  being  favorably  im- 
pressed with  the  site  they  selected  he  returned  to  Kentucky  for 
his  family.  Mr.  Nowland  built  his  home  south  of  Washing- 
ton street  near  what  is  now  California  street. 


8 

His  grandson,  Col.  John  W.  Ray,  describes  it  as  a  log 
cabin  in  the  woods  with  a  chimney  of  sticks  and  mud,  with 
fireplace  so  wide  and  doorway  so  broad  that  once  a  week 
during  the  winter  a  horse  dragged  in  a  big  back  log  for  the 
fire.  It  was  here  that  Ralston  lived  while  surveying  the 
capital.  It  was  one  of  the  traditions  in  Col.  Ray's  family 
that  his  mother,  Sarah  Anne  Nowland,  then  a  girl  of  thirteen 
years,  carried  the  chain  for  the  surveyors  laying  out  the  streets 
because  men  and  boys  were  so  busy  clearing  out  the  woods 
they  could  not  be  obtained  to  help  the  surveyors. 

Who  Preached  the  First  Sermon  and  Where  Was  it 

Delivered  ? 

The  discussion  has  never  waxed  as  warm  as  that  concerning 
the  first  settler,  Pogue  or  McCormick,  but  Rev.  Rezin  Ham- 
mond, whose  congregation  sat  on  logs  rolled  together  by  the 
surveying  party  near  the  Circle,  claims  first  place ;  there  are 
those,  however,  who  make  the  same  claim  for  William 
Cravens,  grandfather  of  Mrs.  Ann  Woodburn  and  Mrs.  Jane 
Patterson. 

His  sermon  was  delivered  on  a  warm  summer  day;  Mr. 
Cravens,  who  weighed  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  conse- 
quently suffered  from  the  excessive  heat.  Spying  a  young 
girl  in  the  congregation  fanning  herself  with  a  turkey's  wing, 
and  looking  to  it  for  relief  from  his  discomfort,  the  preacher 
paused  in  the  midst  of  his  sermon;  leaning  from  his  impro- 
vised pulpit  he  beckoned  to  the  girl,  saying  "Come  here, 
darter,  and  fan  your  grandpap  while  he  preaches." 

To  return  to  the  diary,  "I  was  very  much  engaged  in  try- 
ing out  my  tallow ;  next  day  I  dipped  candles  and  washed. 
Tuesday,  December  25,  1821  (first  Christmas  day  in  the  set- 
tlement), My  husband  went  to  the  river  and  found  at  Mc- 


George's  a  large  collection  of  men,  principally  the  candidates 
for  the  new  county  which  is  said  to  be  just  laid  off.  McG 
had  the  only  barrel  of  cider  in  town,  which  I  suppose  to 
have  cost  about  $7.00.  In  the  liberality  of  the  candidates  the 
barrel  was  unheaded  and  all  promisculously  drank;  and  it 
being  froze  the  dog  irons  were  put  in  red  hot  *  *  *  My  hus- 
band found  a  great  degree  of  accommodation  and  courtesy 
among  all  classes.  The  candidates  leading  the  concourse 
from  one  place  to  another  until  sundown. 

"Mrs.  Bradley  (wife  of  Henry,  the  carpenter)  spent  the  day 
with  me  and  Mrs.  Paxton  dined  with  us,  then  we  both  went 
home  with  Mrs.  Paxton,  took  tea  and  sat  awhile — went  home 
and  read  a  chapter  in  my  Bible."  Certainly  this  was  a  quiet 
celebration  of  Christmas  day  when  compared  with  that  of  the 
men  at  McGeorge's ! 

"December  26th.  Went  to  singing  school  and  suffered  very 
much  with  the  cold.  Word  has  come  that  Mr.  Blake  has  ar- 
rived from  Corydon ;  my  husband  has  gone  to  see  him.  When 
I  write  a  few  more  lines  I  will  go  myself,  although  I  feel 
much  fatigued;  it  has  been  so  long  a  time  since  I  have  heard 
the  fiddle  played  that  I  think  it  would  sound  very  melodious. " 

Although  I  have  no  recollection  of  Mr.  Blake  I  feel  that 
I  knew  him  because  he  was  the  warm  friend  of  other  genera- 
tions of  my  family.  I  am  for  that  reason  quoting  somewhat  at 
length  from  Berry  Sulgrove's  tribute  to  him.  "Mr.  Blake's 
history  for  fifty  years  was  the  history  of  Indianapolis  and  no 
citizen  has  ever  been  more  closely  identified  with  the  rise  and 
progress  of  the  city  than  he.  When  Kossuth,  the  distinguished 
Hungarian,  visited  Indianapolis,  when  the  soldiers  returned 
from  the  Mexican  war,  and  when  they  came  home  from  the 
South,  Mr.  Blake  was  the  marshal  of  the  day;  no  public  pag- 
eant seemed  complete  without  him.  His  ambition  to  become 
a  useful  citizen  and  a  public  benefactor  outweighed  all  other 
considerations." 


10 


The  Blake  homestead  stood  at  the  northwest  corner  of 
North  and  Tennessee  streets  (the  latter  now  Capitol  avenue), 
and  was  a  delightful  old  place  with  its  sheltered  brick-paved 
porch,  its  Dutch  gable  and  the  riot  of  vines  over  all. 

When  I  visited  the  homestead  Mrs.  Blake  met  me  on  the 
porch  and  taking  me  by  the  hand  lead  me  into  the  quaint  old 
parlor  to  see  her  cherished  possession,  the  bridal  gift  of  her 
husband,  the  antiquated  piano,  now  stained  and  darkened  with 
age.  It  had  been  brought  over  the  mountains  from  Baltimore 
in  1831  and  was  the  first  instrument  of  its  kind  in  the  new 
settlement.  The  pleasure  her  playing  gave  was  long  re- 
membered by  Mrs.  Blake's  friends.  Perhaps  "Uncle  Jimmie," 
as  he  was  affectionately  called,  took  his  fiddle  from  its  box 
and  joined  in  the  music — I  wish  I  might  have  heard  the  duets 
they  played,  this  Hoosier  Darby  and  Joan! 

Mrs.  Blake  and  her  playing  at  the  old  piano  inspired  Dan 
Paine  to  write  his  poem  "Da  Capo,"  one  of  the  best  of  our 
local  productions.  To  revive  your  memory  of  it  I  quote  a 
stanza  or  two : 

"She  sat  at  the  old  piano 
Her  fingers  thin  and  pale 
Ran  over  the  yellow  key-board 
The  chords  of  a  minor  scale. 

Her  hands  were  withered  and  shrunken, 
Her  form  with  age  was  bent; 
They  seemed  twin  spirits  in  look  and  tone; 
Herself  and  the  instrument. 

For  the  instrument  quaint  and  olden 
With  its  single  tremulous  strings, 
Was  little  more  than  a  spirit, 
And  its  tone  seemed  a  whirr  of  wings." 


11 

The  diary — "January  the  first,  1822.  My  husband  and  I 
have  been  invited  to  attend  a  party  at  John  Wyant's  today  at 
3  o'clock.  I  am  unable  to  tell  the  aggregate  of  the  happiness 
we  shall  enjoy. 

"Mr.  Hogden  came  for  us  with  a  carriage  and  carried  us 
to  Mr.  Wyant's  house  at  the  river.  Mr.  Russell  played  a  few 
tunes  on  the  fiddle  and  we  danced  a  few  reels ;  returned  home 
about  12  o'clock  not  much  fatigued.    20  couples  were  present." 

Going  to  a  party  in  a  carriage  suggests  a  degree  of  luxury 
not  yet  attained  by  the  towns  people  we  would  suppose; 
we  find  our  conjecture  is  correct  for  Mrs.  Martin,  daughter 
of  George  Smith,  the  first  publisher,  and  mother  of  Mrs.  Gor- 
don Tanner,  Sr.,  also  went  to  the  ball  in  Hjogden's  carriage 
which  she  describes  as  "a  great  lumbering  thing  similar  to 
the  mud  wagons  used  in  stage  coach  days,  when  an  ordinary 
stage  could  not  navigate  the  flooded  roads." 

An  incident  occurred  at  this  first  dance  and  New  Year's  ball 
in  the  settlement  one  historian  relates  "which  indicates  a 
stronger  matrimonial  exclusiveness  among  some  of  the  pio- 
neers than  prevails  at  the  present  day." 

Mr.  Wyant's  tavern  was  a  double  cabin ;  while  the  landlord 
was  in  t'other  house,  as  the  second  cabin  was  called,  the  guests 
had  been  welcomed  in  the  room  to  the  right  of  the  porch 
which  divided  the  tavern.  It  was  time  for  the  ball  to  com- 
mence and  the  guests  grew  impatient  at  the  delay.  One  pol- 
ished gentleman  from  Kentucky,  remembering  his  early  train- 
ing beyond  the  Ohio  river,  invited  his  hostess  to  open  the 
ball  with  him.  Mrs.  Wyant  accepted  his  invitaton  with  eager- 
ness and  the  couple  was  moving  gracefully  across  the  danc- 
ing floor  when  the  lady's  husband  returned  from  t'other  house. 
His  manner  at  once  indicated  disapproval  of  the  scene  which 
met  his  gaze.  Going  to  the  end  of  the  room  where  Col.  Rus- 
sell sat  with  his  fiddle  poised  on  his  shoulder  he  ordered  him 


12 


to  cease  playing ;  then  turning  to  the  surprised  company  he  said 
with  sterness,  "As  far  as  I  and  my  wife  are  concerned  we  are 
able  to  do  our  own  dancing ;  it  would  look  better  for  every  man 
to  follow  our  example  and  dance  with  his  own  wife ;  those  of 
you  who  are  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  none  can  dance  with 
the  gals." 

Col.  Russell,  the  fiddler  for  the  joyous  occasion,  was  the 
first  merchant  of  the  settlement.  At  his  store  trade  was  car- 
ried on  on  a  basis  of  barter  making  it  possible  to  do  business 
with  a  small  amount  of  ready  money.  Here  the  needs  of  the 
town  were  supplied  from  a  stock  consisting  of  dry  goods, 
queensware,  hardware  and  groceries.  Cash  was  given  for 
hides  and  furs  of  every  description.  The  fur  trade  did  not 
fall  off  for  many  years,  and  it  is  interesting  to  note,  in  this 
connection,  that  Indianapolis  became  the  center  of  it  for  a 
large  part  of  the  state  and  for  some  distance  beyond  its  bor- 
ders. 

Col.  Russell  arrived  from  Kentucky  in  May,  1821,  by  the 
first  keel  boat  to  reach  this  point  on  White  River.  He  was 
in  turn  county  sheriff,  militia  officer  and  post  master.  More- 
over, he  was  a  fiddler  of  note  and  consequently  in  demand  for 
all  the  early  entertainments. 

On  January  22,  1822,  the  writer  of  the  diary  attended  the 
wedding  of  Miss  Patsy  Chinn  and  Mr.  Uriah  Gates,  probably 
the  second  wedding  in  the  place. 

As  the  two  rooms  of  the  cabin  in  which  the  ceremony  was 
to  take  place  were  filled  with  guests  she  tells  us  the  bride 
was  compelled  to  make  her  toilet  in  the  smoke  house;  from 
this  improvised  dressing  room  the  bridegroom  escorted  her  to 
the  waiting  company  in  the  cabin.  After  the  ceremony  a  wed- 
ding dinner  was  served,  the  table  groaning  under  a  feast  the 
billionaire  of  today  would  have  difficulty  in  duplicating.  The 
piece  de  resistance  was  a  fine  saddle  of  venison  placed  in  the 


13 

middle  of  the  table ;  two  large  fat  wild  turkeys  were  at  either 
end,  still  steaming  hot  from  the  clay  oven  in  which  they  had 
been  roasted ;  between  the  venison  and  the  turkeys  were  pump- 
kin, chicken  and  various  other  pies. 

From  the  side  table  or  puncheon,  the  bride's  mother  assist- 
ed by  the  old  ladies,  was  serving  coffee  ladled  from  a  large 
sugar  kettle  which  was  hanging  from  the  crane  in  the  open 
fireplace.  Maple  sugar  was  used  for  sweetening  and  rich 
cream  was  plentiful. 

In  celebration  of  the  wedding  dancing  continued  for  two 
days. 

The  infare  or  housewarming  given  by  the  newly  married 
couple  was  no  doubt  a  part  of  this  revelry,  for  Edward  Eg- 
gleston  in  "Roxy"  says,  "there  could  be  no  wedding  in  a 
Hoosier  village  without  an  infare  on  the  following  day. 

In  those  days  the  faring  into  the  house  of  the  bridegrooms' 
parents  was  observed  with  great  rejoicing." 

For  several  days  following  the  festivities  attending  Miss 
Chinn's  wedding  we  find  no  record  in  the  diary.  The  entry 
which  follows  makes  clear  the  reason.  "My  husband  and  I 
came  home  after  daylight  the  second  day,  slept  until  after- 
noon and  then  went  back  and  put  in  another  night.  I  have 
been  asked  to  a  quilting  party  but  have  declined  since  I  do 
not  think  it  proper  to  go  when  I  am  so  weary." 

Visiting  one's  neighbors  was  the  most  frequent  social  pleas- 
ure, spending  the  day  or  going  to  dinner  when  the  guest  ar- 
rived in  season  to  assist  in  the  preparation  of  the  meal  and 
had  no  pressing  engagement  to  call  her  away  before  she  had 
helped  wash  the  dishes  and  put  the  room  to  rights.  The  chil- 
dren were  invariably  included  in  these  invitations  for  the 
mother  of  a  family  was  nurse  as  well  as  cook,  house  maid  and 
seamstress.  A  few  days  after  Miss  Chinn's  wedding  our  lady 
of  the  diary  spends  the  day  with  Mrs.  Hervey  Bates,  pre- 


14 


sumably  to  talk  over  the  bride's  outfit,  the  wedding  dinner  and 
the  furnishings  of  the  cabin  into  which  she  had  fared. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bates  came  to  the  new  settlement,  February 
22,  1822.  On  the  day  of  their  arrival  Mr.  Bates  as  first 
sheriff  of  Marion  County,  appointed  by  Governor  Jennings, 
issued  a  proclamation  for  the  first  election  ever  held  in  the 
New  Purchase. 

The  office  of  sheriff  was  the  only  political  office  Mr.  Bates 
ever  filled  although  his  friends  frequently  besought  him  to 
accept  various  public  offices,  he  devoted  himself  to  mercantile 
pursuits ;  all  the  important  enterprises  of  the  town  were  aided 
by  his  energy  and  ability.  Among  these  undertakings  the 
Bates  House  (northwest  corner  of  Washington  and  Illinois 
streets),  built  in  1852,  had  more  than  local  fame;  it  was 
known  as  one  of  the  most  complete  and  elegant  hostelries 
in  the  West. 

Housing  as  it  did  for  many  years,  the  distinguished  men 
who  came  to  the  city  it  no  doubt  considered  Lincoln,  the  first 
president  elect  to  visit  Indianapolis,  its  most  distinguished 
guest,  and  his  speech  from  the  Washington  street  balcony  the 
greatest  event  in  its  history. 

Much  excitement,  it  is  recorded,  preceded  and  attended  the 
first  election  for  which  Sheriff  Bates  issued  the  proclamation. 

There  were  at  this  time  no  political  parties,  no  conventions, 
no  caucuses,  and  the  occasion  resolved  itself  into  a  free  fight 
for  all  comers.  The  combatants,  it  has  been  reported,  were 
ranged  under  the  titles  of  Whitewater  and  Kentucky.  The 
emigration  from  these  two  sections  was  simultaneous  and  each 
wished  to  control  the  result.  It  was  a  state  rather  than  a  local 
contest ;  the  interest  centered  in  the  office  of  clerk,  considered 
the  most  important  in  the  county. 

James  M.  Ray,  Whitewater's  successful  candidate,  came  to 
Indianapolis  in  the  fall  of  '21. 


15 

A  friend's  estimate  places  him  "among  the  foremost  men 
here,  quiet,  unobtrusive,  vigilant,  never  idle,  his  word  as  good 
as  another  man's  oath." 

Kentucky's  candidate,  Morris  Morris,  was  also  a  pioneer  of 
'21.  He  had  the  great  advantage  of  a  thorough  English  edu- 
cation, unusual  in  the  settlement.  He  possessed  a  gentleness 
combined  with  decision,  which  is  indeed  a  rare  combination. 
It  is  a  singular  coincidence  that  Morris  Morris  and  his  son, 
Thomas  A.  Morris,  served  as  commissioners  for  both  State 
Houses.  The  father  for  the  structure  of  1835,  modeled  after 
the  Parthenon,  where  the  body  of  Lincoln  laid  in  state  on  a 
day  never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  of  us  who  looked  upon  his 
face. 

The  election  was  held  on  the  first  day  of  April,  1822.  The 
close  of  the  day  must  have  brought  relief  to  the  writer  of  the 
diary,  for  she  says,  "I  spent  the  time  very  unsatisfactorily; 
there  were  so  many  candidates  coming  in  and  out  I  could 
neither  read,  write  or  do  anything  else." 

"Friday,  April  12,  1822. — Spent  the  afternoon  at  Mr.  Buck- 
ner's  when  I  got  the  sight  of  a  young  lady  from  Kentucky; 
at  a  distance  she  looked  very  flashy  and  carried  a  very  high 
head.  I  did  not  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  her;  perhaps  if 
I  had  I  would  have  found  the  lady  as  empty  as  myself." 

"April  13. — Mr.  Levington  and  some  other  men  have  been 
10  miles  up  the  river  on  the  public  lands  cutting  saw  logs  for 
several  weeks.  They  made  a  contract  with  Daniel  Yandes  to 
deliver  2,000  logs  at  1  dollar  per  piece,  and  since  the  rain 
the  saw  logs  are  coming  down  the  river." 

This  transaction  suggests  carrying  coals  to  Newcastle  for 
the  town  site  was  full  of  fine  timber;  but  it  was  probably 
easier  to  float  the  logs  down  the  river  than  to  get  them  to  the 
mill  over  land. 


16 

In  the  preceding  fall  the  State  Agent  had  offered  the  tim- 
ber in  the  street  to  anyone  who  would  cut  it.  Lismund  Basye, 
justice  of  the  peace,  was  tempted  by  the  offer  and  undertook 
the  clearing  of  Washington  street;  much  timber  was  cut  and 
the  only  thoroughfare  in  the  settlement  blocked  with  it. 

Thereupon  all  the  townspeople  turned  out  and  cleared  a 
roadway  by  huge  bonfires.  Apropos  of  this  blockade  of 
traffic  Mr.  Blake  perpetuated  his  celebrated  joke:  "The  early 
settlers  spent  their  evenings  one  winter  cutting  and  rolling 
logs  in  Washington  street.  They  employed  two  or  three  hun- 
dred negroes  to  cut  the  logs  in  two  and  keep  the  heaps 
burning."  A  diagram  must  accompany  this  joke  and  ex- 
plain it.  The  word  "nigger"  means  to  the  backwoodsman  a 
small  log  placed  when  blazing,  across  large  logs  to  fire  them ; 
by  tending  the  fire  so  made,  large  logs  are  divided  more 
quickly  than  by  an  ax — consequently  "a  nigger  in  a  wood- 
pile" means  something  which  destroys  it  and  not,  as  I  had 
supposed,  our  African  brother. 

Daniel  Yandes,  for  whom  the  logs  were  cut  up  the  river, 
was  called  the  pioneer  mill  builder;  he  built  a  saw  and  grist 
mill,  a  tannery  and  in  1833  with  Samuel  Merrill,  established 
the  first  cotton  spinning  factory  in  this  region. 

H)e  brought  $4,000  with  him  when  he  came  to  the  settle- 
ment in  the  spring  of  '21,  which  constituted  him  for  many 
years  the  largest  capitalist  in  the  place.  He  was  first  treasurer 
of  Marion  County.  Samuel  Merrill's  part  in  the  pageant  of 
the  State  Centennial  is  still  fresh  in  our  minds ;  he  was  the  first 
state  treasurer  and  served  in  both  capitals,  coming  from 
Cory  don  to  Indianapolis  in  1824,  when  William  Hendricks 
was  Governor. 

Mr.  Merrill  was  one  of  our  foremost  pioneers,  a  man  of 
high  attainments  and  ideals. 


17 

Nicholas  McCarty,  friend  and  neighbor  of  Daniel  Yandes, 
reached  the  settlement  in  1823.  Besides  his  mercantile  business 
he  took  large  contracts  for  Indian  supplies;  he  was  familiar 
with  the  dialects  of  the  tribes  on  the  Miami  Reservation;  he 
became  interested  in  silk  growing  and  the  manufacture  of 
hemp. 

He  was  an  unostentatious  man  of  great  personal  popularity. 

The  diary  of  April,  1822:  "Sunday,  21st — Walked  down  to 
the  river  where  I  saw  many  people  crossing  the  ferry.  Madam 
Wick,  Mrs.  Carter  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  riding  up  the 
river  to  the  mouth  of  Fall  Creek  and  back  again  to  the  ferry 
in  the  flat." 

Flat  boats  loaded  with  provisions  for  the  Southern  market 
came  down  the  river  from  a  point  one  hundred  and  thirty 
miles  above  Indianapolis,  when  the  water  was  high,  but  at 
this  day  navigation  of  the  river  has  become  a  mere  jest. 

We  smile  when  we  read  the  following  from  resolutions 
adopted  by  a  citizens'  committee  at  the  time  of  the  arrival  of 
the  steamboat  Gen.  Hanna  from  Cincinnati,  in  1831: 

"The  arrival  of  the  Gen.  Hanna  should  be  viewed  by  the 
citizens  of  the  White  river  country,  and  of  our  state  at  large 
as  a  proud  triumph  and  as  a  fair  and  unanswerable  demon- 
stration of  the  fact  that  our  beautiful  river  is  susceptible  of 
safe  navigaton  for  steam  vessels  of  a  much  larger  class  than 
was  anticipated  by  the  most  sanguine.  Resolved  that  Capt. 
Blythe's  company  of  artillery  be  invited  to  parade  on  this 
day  at  2  o'clock  near  the  boat  to  fire  a  salute  in  honor  of  the 
occasion.' ' 

Perhaps  a  number  who  are  here  today  remember  the  sad 
fate  of  the  Gov.  Morton,  the  side  wheeler  licensed  to  carry  on 
the  coasting  trade.  For  thirteen  months  she  was  the  pride  and 
joy  of  every  citizen  of  the  town,  but  on  the  6th  of  August, 


18 

1866,  her  all  too  short  existence  ended  when  she  sank  at 
her  moorings  below  the  old  National  Bridge. 

Mrs.  Carter,  one  of  the  ladies  referred  to  in  the  ride  up 
the  river,  was  the  wife  of  Major  Thomas  Carter,  the  auctioneer 
at  the  memorable  sale  of  town  lots  October  8  to  12,  1821,  and 
tavern  keeper  as  well.  He  built  a  log  tavern  just  west  of  the 
present  News  building  and  called  it  the  Rose  Bush. 

Here  the  first  theatrical  performance  of  the  town  was  given, 
December  31,  1823,  by  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  purporting  to 
be  directly  from  the  New  York  theaters.  Neither  actor  was 
less  than  fifty,  one  witness  of  their  performance  states.  "They 
essayed  the  principal  roles  in  'The  Jealous  Lovers/  and 
'Lord,  What  a  Snow  Storm  in  May  and  June.'  Admittance, 
25  cents.  No  music,  at  first  because  the  fiddle  strings  broke. 
Russell  and  Bolton  were  requested  by  our  host,  a  strict  Bap- 
tist, to  play  nothing  but  note  tunes  or  psalms,  as  he  called 
them." 

Encouraged  by  their  reception  the  Smiths  filled  a  return 
engagement  the  next  summer,  but  they  made  the  awful  mis- 
take of  advertising  in  the  Gazette  and  not  in  The  Censor, 
whereupon  the  editor  of  The  Censor  sarcastically  observes: 
"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  whose  performances  were  treated  with 
so  much  contempt  and  ridicule  last  winter,  arrived  in  town  a 
few  days  ago  and  commenced  their  performance  last  night. 
*  *  *  The  encouragement  of  this  company,  whose  exhibition 
we  understand  (for  we  have  never  witnessed  them)  afford 
neither  instruction  nor  rational  entertainment,  would  be  a 
reproach  upon  our  understandings  and  would  evince  a  want 
of  taste  and  discrimination  in  our  citizens  which  we  are  proud 
to  say  does  not  exist."  After  such  a  blasting  newspaper  ar- 
ticle, it  is  not  surprising  to  learn  that  "Smith  and  his  company 
have  absconded  without  taking  from  us  any  of  our  cash." 
Mr.  Bolton,  husband  of  the  poetess,  Sarah  T.  Bolton,  also  wit- 


19 

nessed  the  performance  referred  to.  H!e  says  Mrs.  Smith,  who 
was  at  least  sixty  years  old,  in  addition  to  her  part  in  the 
play,  sang  the  "Star  Spangled  Banner"  and  danced  a  horn- 
pipe, blindfolded,  among  eggs.  In  these  days  of  soaring 
prices  this  act  would  certainly  be  a  dangerous  and  costly  per- 
formance. 

But  Madam  Wick  is  still  waiting  on  the  flat  boat  to  be 
introduced.  She  was  the  wife  of  William  W.  Wick,  elected 
the  first  judge  by  the  Legislature  at  Corydon  in  the  winter 
of  1821-22. 

The  first  session  of  the  Circuit  Court,  at  which  Judge  Wick 
presided,  was  held  in  a  private  house  at  Indianapolis,  Septem- 
ber 26,  1822.  After  the  Judge,  Associate  Judges  and  other 
officers  of  the  Court  had  presented  their  commissions  and 
taken  the  oath  of  office,  including  the  oath  against  duelling, 
which  was  very  stringent,  the  following  lawyers  were  ad- 
mitted to  practice:  Calvin  Fletcher,  Hiram  M.  Curry,  Obed 
Foote,  Harvey  Gregg,  of  Indianapolis,  Daniel  B.  Wick,  Oliver 
H,  Smith,  James  Noble,  James  Rairiden,  James  Whitcomb 
and  Lot  Bloomfield,  from  the  state. 

The  order  of  business  was  as  follows :  First,  selection  of 
grand  jurors  and  appointment  of  prosecuting  attorney;  sec- 
ond, establishment  of  prison  bounds  for  insolvent  debtors ; 
third,  naturalization  of  Richard  Good,  "lately  from  Cork  in 
the  Kingdom  of  Ireland,"  according  to  his  own  statement; 
fourth,  granting  a  tavern  license  to  John  Hawkins,  the  first 
license  granted  for  this  purpose  in  Marion  county.  (Haw- 
kins'  tavern  was  situated  where  the  Lombard  building  stands.) 

So  ended  the  first  day  of  court  in  the  new  settlement. 

Calvin  Fletcher,  appointed  first  prosecuting  attorney, 
reached  here  in  the  fall  of  1821.  He  had  a  prominent  part  in 
the  town's  advancement,  laboring  unceasingly  with  his 
friends,  Ovid  Butler,  Caleb  Mills,  Bishop  E.  R.  Ames  and 


20 

others  for  the  establishment  of  free  schools,  but  not  until 
April  25,  1853,  were  such  schools  opened  in  Indianapolis.  On 
that  date  a  code  of  rules  and  regulations  prepared  by  Mr. 
Fletcher  was  adopted;  it  constitutes  the  basis  of  the  code  in 
force  in  the  schools  at  the  present  day. 

Throughout  the  period  of  the  civil  war  Governor  Morton 
often  appealed  to  Mr.  Fletcher,  then  a  leading  banker,  for 
advice  and  aid.  On  one  notable  occasion  a  large  sum  of 
money  was  needed  to  pay  off  bounties  so  that  soldiers  might 
be  quickly  sent  to  the  front.  In  this  emergency  the  Gov- 
ernor went  to  his  friend,  saying,  'There  is  urgent  need  of 
ready  money.  What  can  be  done?"  Instantly  came  the  re- 
ply, "What  did  you  bring  to  carry  it  in?"  The  two  men 
looked  about  for  a  receptacle.  A  market  basket  near  at  hand 
caught  their  eyes.  This  was  filled  with  money  and,  lifting  it 
to  his  arm,  the  Governor  carried  away  a  heavy  load,  but  a 
lighter  heart. 

The  diary:  "Spent  the  night  with  Madam  Wick,  also  had 
tea;  her  table  was  spread  with  the  fruits  of  her  industry; 
went  home  early,  set  Mr.  B.  (Mr.  James  Blake,  a  boarder) 
gathering  bean  sticks,  got  some  eggs  from  Mrs.  Alec  Wilson 
to  set  a  hen.  Commenced  a  roundabout  to  go  with  the  panta- 
loons I  had  made.. 

July  1.  There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  talk  about  celebrat- 
ing the  Fourth.  My  husband  is  this  day  engaged  in  writing 
toasts  for  the  celebration. 

Thursday,  the  Fourth  of  July,  1822  (the  first  observed  in 
the  settlement).  There  appears  to  be  a  great  stir  and  liveli- 
ness among  the  people ;  the  men  had  a  barbecue,  a  buck  killed 
by  Robert  Hlarding  yesterday,  and  dined  under  the  green  trees 
at  the  west  end  of  Washington  street,  on  the  Military  Re- 
serve." 

The  celebration  opened  with  a  sermon  by  Rev.  John  Mc- 


21 


Clung,  a  New  Light,  probably  the  first  preacher  to  settle  in 
Indianapolis ;  a  brief  speech  followed  the  reading  of  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independence  by  Judge  Wick ;  Washington's  In- 
augural Address,  by  Squire  Obed  Foote;  Washington's  Fare- 
well Address,  by  John  Hawkins,  and  a  prayer  and  benedic- 
tion by  the  Rev.  Robert  Brenton. 

Toasts,  fourteen  in  number,  by  Calvin  Fletcher  finished  the 
programme.  I  quote  the  last  one:  "Indianapolis,  may  it  not 
prove  itself  unworthy  the  honor  the  state  has  conferred  upon 
it  by  making  it  the  capital." 

It  is  now  almost  a  hundred  years  since  this  toast  was  given 
at  the  first  Fourth  of  July  celebration  held  in  the  new  capital. 
The  centennial  of  the  capital  in  the  wilderness  approaches. 
Without  delay  we  should  begin  our  preparations  for  its  ob- 
servance. Let  there  be  much  deliberation  by  those  charged 
with  this  important  matter  before  the  form  of  celebration  is 
decided  upon. 

Let  us  commemorate  the  founding  of  the  town  with  a 
memorial  of  lasting  value,  with  a  memorial  that  shall  prove 
beyond  question  that  Indianapolis  is  worthy  of  the  honor  con- 
ferred upon  it  one  hundred  years  ago,  when  it  was  made  the 
capital  of  the  state. 

As  a  fitting  ending  to  the  first  Fourth  of  July  celebration, 
the  settlers  held  a  ball  at  Jacob  R.  Crumbaugh's  house  (Crum- 
baugh  was  a  justice  of  the  peace),  situated  at  the  corner  of 
Missouri  and  Market  streets.  Tnere  were  no  social  divid- 
ing lines,  no  caste  distinctions  at  this  time,  we  may  be  sure, 
for  the  carpenter  danced  with  the  postmaster's  wife  and  the 
judge  lead  out  the  butcher's  lady  on  this  occasion.  Until  1828 
military  and  civic  organizations  celebrated  the  Fourth  with 
firing  of  salutes,  parades,  speeches,  dinners,  etc. ;  from  that 
time,  however,  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  a  new  order  of  ob- 
servance prevailed.     The  Sabbath  school  procession  becam* 


22 

the  great  event  of  the  day ;  it  usually  formed  on  Circle  street 
and  marched  to  the  grove  in  the  State  House  yard;  here,  be- 
fore disbanding,  the  female  teachers  and  the  scholars,  both 
male  and  female,  were  treated  to  refreshments  of  rusk  and 
water,  while  the  men  concluded  their  celebration  with  a  din- 
ner in  the  sugar  grove  at  the  east  end  of  the  town,  as  far 
removed  as  possible  from  those  who  observed  the  day  in  a 
more  ascetic  manner  by  fasting  on  rusk  and  water. 

The  August  entries  in  the  dairy  indicate  much  sickness 
among  the  people;  there  were  frequent  heavy  rains  and  the 
water  stood  for  months  in  the  low  spots  of  the  ravines  which 
traversed  the  town. 

Malarial  diseases  followed.  In  fact,  the  ague  was  so  prom- 
inent a  feature  of  early  Indianapolis  that  Mr.  Dunn  says  it 
calls  for  special  notice  as  one  of  the  institutions  of  the  place. 
Most  of  the  settlers  who  suffered  with  it  could  say,  as  Demas 
McFarland  did,  that  he  "served  a  regular  apprenticeship  at 
the  ague  and  worked  at  journey  work  at  the  chills  and  fever." 

Mr.  Demas  McFarland,  farmer,  arrived  in  1821.  Many 
years  after  this  date  his  daughters,  maiden  ladies,  kept  a 
school  in  the  brick  house  on  St.  Clair  street  recently  torn 
down  to  make  way  for  the  new  Public  Library.  In  this  school 
the  pupils  learned  the  capitals  of  the  states  by  singing,  in- 
stead of  reciting  the  lesson. 

Because  of  the  existing  unhealthy  conditions,  it  was  for- 
tunate for  the  settlers  that  five  physicians  established  offices 
in  Indianapolis  at  an  early  date.  They  were  Drs.  Mitchell, 
Scudder,  Cool,  Dunlap  and  Coe. 

Dr.  Mitchell  was  a  very  corpulent  man,  who  never  rode 
his  horse  out  of  a  walk;  he  was  made  surgeon  of  the  bat- 
talion raised  in  the  town  at  the  time  of  the  Black  Hawk  war. 

Young  Dr.  Scudder  gave  promise  of  a  brilliant  pro- 
fessional career,  which  was  cut  short  by  his  death  in  1829; 


23 


his  colleagues  showed  their  respect  for  his  memory  by  wear- 
ing bands  of  crepe  on  their  sleeves  for  thirty  days. 

Dr.  Jonathan  Cool,  the  best  educated  of  them  all,  was  a 
Princeton  graduate  and  classmate  of  Judge  Blackford.  Dr. 
Cool  made  the  first  protest  against  the  heroic  doses  of  medi- 
cine given  in  those  days. 

Dr.  Livingston  Dunlap  was  the  only  surgeon  in  the  town 
until  Dr.  Sanders  came  in  1830.  Dr.  Dunlap  served  in  many 
civic  offices  and  was  professor  of  theory  and  practice  in  the 
Central  Medical  College.  He  had  a  large  practice  and  his 
death  in  1862  was  widely  lamented. 

Dr.  Isaac  Coe  came  to  the  settlement  in  the  spring  of  1821. 
His  home  was  near  the  Patterson  homestead  and  the  present 
City  Hospital.  He  is  remembered  for  his  free  use  of  calomel 
and  the  lancet.  Mrs.  Jane  Merrill  Ketcham,  one  of  his  patients 
in  her  childhood,  says  "it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say  that  his 
pills  were  as  large  as  cherries ;  twenty  grains  of  calomel  was 
a  common  dose  and  antimony  until  one  was  sure  he  »vas 
poisoned." 

Dr.  Coe  was  a  charter  member  of  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church,  and  his  many  years  of  service  were  recalled  when, 
in  1901,  the  boxes  in  the  corner  stone  of  the  church  at  the 
southwest  corner  of  Pennsylvania  and  New  York  streets  were 
opened  on  the  clearing  of  the  square  for  the  Federal  Build- 
ing. The  first  box  transferred  from  its  resting  place  in  the 
building  of  1843,  located  on  the  Circle,  contained  the  history 
of  the  church  complete  from  1821  to  1841  in  Dr.  Coe's  hand- 
writing, a  period  covering,  among  others,  the  pastorates  of 
the  Revs.  David  C.  Proctor,  George  Bush,  William  A.  Holli- 
dav  and  Phineas  D.  Gurley.  The  church  history  of  later 
years  was  found  in  the  second  box,  with  the  names  of  the 
elders  of  1866,  Thomas  H.  Sharpe,  Thomas  Maclntire,  Wil- 
liam Sheets  and  Benjamin  Harrison.     The  box  also  contained 


24 

this  solemn  injunction :  "If  this  corner  stone  shall  ever  be 
displaced  and  these  lines  come  before  any  human  eyes  in  a 
coming  generation,  let  whosoever  may  touch  these  memorials 
of  those  who  have  gone  before  them  be  assured  that  they  in- 
herit not  only  the  toils  but  the  prayers  of  many  of  the  builders 
of  this  church." 

Dr.  Coe  was  the  founder  of  Union  Sunday  School,  which 
the  writer  of  the  diary  mentions  as  early  as  June  16,  1822. 
This  school  was  held  in  the  cabinet  shop  of  Caleb  Scudder, 
which  adjoined  his  dwelling  on  West  Washington  street,  op- 
posite the  State  House.  Mr.  Scudder  is  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting of  the  early  characters.  Specimens  of  his  cabinet 
work  are  prized  today  in  Indianapolis  homes. 

Again  I  open  the  diary  and  find  that  busy  autumn  days 
are  spent  in  gathering  fruits  and  vegetables  for  winter  use,  in 
spinning  wool  for  socks,  in  making  a  quilted  petticoat.  On 
an  idle  Sunday  Thompson's  Seasons  was  enjoyed  and  the 
Ladies'  Casket  read  from  cover  to  cover.  Winter  brought  cold 
and  snow;  the  wife  was  anxious  for  her  husband  who  rode 
the  distant  circuit  with  Judge  Wick. 

But  spring  came  at  last  and  the  maple  sugar  camp  was 
opened.  His  son  Miles  later  described  the  sugar-making  as 
follows : 

"In  our  pasture  maple  trees  abounded.  These,  with  the  first 
thaw  of  the  opening  year,  were  tapped  and  sugar  making  be- 
gan. Mother  was  the  factotum  in  this  business,  but  she  car- 
ried it  on  very  differently  from  the  careless  manner  of  most 
Hoosiers.  Instead  of  sugar  troughs,  which  were  liable  to 
stain  the  sap,  she  had  clean  crocks  placed  under  the  spiles. 
The  sugar  water  when  collected  was  carried  to  a  half -faced 
camp  and  poured  into  kettles  suspended  by  the  side  of  a  huge 
oak  log.  There,  when  the  boiling  was  going  on,  mother  stood 
and  stirred  and  tasted  and  added  until  all  was  reduced  to  a 


25 


thick  syrup.  This  was  carried  to  the  house,  reboiled  and 
grained,  lest  in  the  woods  the  flying  pollen  and  early  insects 
should  mar  the  unsullied  whiteness  of  the  sugar.  Sugar  mak- 
ing time  was  a  hey  day  for  us  boys.  We  scampered  among 
the  trees,  playing  Indian  and  hide  and  go  seek.  Mother 
showed  us  how  to  make  whistles  from  the  pawpaw  bushes  and 
pointed  out  the  bloodroot,  the  snake  root  and  ginseng  which 
grew  near  the  sugar  camp." 

Ginseng  was  wanted  for  the  Chinese  trade ;  it  brought  six 
cents  a  pound ;  it  was  very  common  in  the  woods  and  much 
of  it  was  gathered,  so  that  the  sale  of  it  developed  to  a  con- 
siderable extent. 

Thursday,  March  6,  1823.  "I  was  solicited  to  attend  a  tea 
party  at  Mrs.  Walpole's.  Am.  making  a  chemise.  Com- 
menced reading  The  Horrors  of  Oakendale  Abbey,  a  ro- 
mance" (the  only  one  ever  mentioned  in  the  diary). 

"December  1,  1823.  Some  Indians  in  with  bear  meat  and 
venison;  loins,  12^  cents  apiece.  Captain  John,  a  Wyandot 
chief,  is  among  the  number."  Captain  John  was  considered  a 
dangerous  man,  but  no  charges  were  ever  brought  against 
him,  although  he  lived  about  the  settlement  many  years.  He 
made  his  home  in  a  hollow  sycamore  log  on  the  east  bank  of 
the  river.  Parties  of  Indians  often  visited  the  settlement  with 
game  to  sell.  Besides  deer,  wild  turkey  and  bear,  the  small 
fur-bearing  animals  were  abundant.  There  were  waterfowl  of 
all  kinds  and  swans  were  seen  on  the  river  on  several  occa- 
sions. Wildcats  and  wolves  were  also  not  uncommon.  Dr. 
William  H.  Wishard  encountered  a  pack  of  wolves  in  1826 ; 
he  had  been  sent,  when  a  boy,  from  his  home  in  Morgan 
County  to  get  meal  at  the  old  bayou  mill  at  Indianapolis, 
starting  home  after  dark  through  the  dense  forest,  young 
Wishard   was  confronted   by   a  pack   of  wolves,   which   had 


26 


killed  a  deer  near  the  road,  and  had  difficulty  in  getting  away 
from  them. 

The  debating  club  formed  a  diversion  for  the  men  of  the 
settlement,  with  the  merits  of  the  presidential  candidates 
oftentimes  as  election  approached  the  favorite  topic  of  debate. 
In  that  connection,  the  writer  of  the  diary  makes  the  follow- 
ing entry :  "My  husband  attended  the  debating  club  last  night 
and  spoke  of  Henry  Clay,  whom  he  had  seen  in  Ohio  before 
we  came  to  Indiana.  I  have  copied  what  he  said  about  Clay : 
T  had  the  pleasure  of  measuring  in  my  mind  the  height, 
breadth,  features  and  politeness  of  the  renowned  Henry  Ciay, 
the  Cicero,  at  least  so  pronounced  by  the  wisdom  of  the  U. 
S.  A. ;  yet,  for  the  want  of  taste  and  discernment,  and  being- 
destitute  of  the  scales  by  which  we  can  rightly  judge  of  human 
greatness,  I  shall  have  pronounced  him  only  a  common  man. 
His  manner  of  address  is  more  indicative  of  politeness  than 
of  greatness  and  wisdom.  I  repeat  having  seen  him,  I  shall 
have  pronounced  him  only  a  common  man.' ' 

"Wednesday,  December  24,  1823.  My  husband  and  I  at- 
tended a  ball  at  Washington  Hall ;  the  day  was  clear  and  cold. 
Thirty  couples  were  present.  The  supper  was  splendid  and 
everything  surpassingly  agreeable." 

"We  are  cooking  and  preparing  for  camp  meeting."  This 
entry  refers  to  the  meeting  held  on  the  Three  Notch  road  in 
a  rolling  tract  of  ground  covered  by  large  oak  trees,  five  miles 
south  of  town.  "I  started  this  morning  on  Pomp  (the  favor- 
ite cream  colored  horse),  with  E.  on  the  pillion  behind  me; 
found  many  already  there,  although  we  had  started  early.  It 
was  a  joyful  time,  the  sky  was  so  blue,  the  trees  were  so 
green  and  the  sweet  singing  made  me  happy  beyond  express- 
ing. 

"As  we  rode  home  we  met  Brother  Armstrong  riding  slowly 


27 


along,  with  a  red  silk  handkerchief  thrown  over  his  head, 
singing  a  stirring  Methodist  hymn. 

"We  saw  deer  and  turkey  tracks  along  the  way  and  once 
two  bucks,  with  their  antlers  in  the  velvet,  bounded  across 
the  road." 

The  first  period  of  the  settlement  draws  to  a  close.  The 
state  offices  have  at  last  been  moved  from  Corydon  and  the 
Legislature  is  about  to  meet  in  the  new  capital,  which  to  this 
time  has  had  only  the  honor  of  the  name. 

The  second  period  of  the  settlement  opens  with  new  and 
interesting  events  to  record,  but  we  search  in  vain  for  further 
entries  in  the  diary. 

With  increasing  family  cares,  the  writer  has  found  little 
time  to  devote  to  her  journal  and  the  entries  become  brief  and 
infrequent,  until  at  last  they  cease  altogether  as  the  pen  drops 
from  the  busy  fingers. 

The  day  is  not  long  enough  for  the  home  maker  to  finish 
the  work  of  the  household  and  her  labors  are  continued  into 
the  night.  Then  the  finished  patchwork  quilt  is  taken  out 
of  the  frame  and  spread  upon  the  big  bed  in  the  corner ;  and 
the  boys  are  tucked  into  the  trundle  bed,  drawn  out  to  re- 
ceive their  tired  bodies. 

A  fresh  log  is  laid  on  the  red  coals  in  the  fireplace ;  the 
lighted  candle  is  placed  on  the  stand  by  the  window  to  guide 
the  homeward  steps  of  the  husband  and  father. 

The  evening  tasks  are  finished,  finished  except  one. 

With  a  sigh  of  relief,  the  mother,  a  pioneer  of  the  Capital 
in  the  Wilderness,'  bends  over  her  baby's  cradle  and  sings 
him  to  sleep  with  a  soothing  lullaby ;  with  this  sweet  music  my 
Allegro  ceases. 


